


Reminiscence

by spellboundnora



Series: snapshots of three intertwining lives [5]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst without a happy ending, Gen, Knife fighting, and he's possibly a sociopath, break in, but he doesn't understand that it's a thing normal people are, but these tags make it seem slightly shippy out of context, dadvid but it's just like mentioned, daniel has undiagnosed depression, daniel is demisexual/demiromantic, david has a depressive episode, david is bipolar, hey motherfuckers watch out this is really dark, i don't have anything against it, i'm in love with the concept of "cool motive still murder" so this is basically that, it's just some angst where people die and shit it's all good, not trying to get you to love daniel just maybe understand why he's done what he has, plus looking into daniel's backstory so that's cool, the only pretentious parts are the summaries and the chapter titles, this isn't dan/vid btw, we don't really even see max the whole time he's just mentioned a bunch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 22:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15850374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellboundnora/pseuds/spellboundnora
Summary: Distractions. A Break-in. Monologues. Knife-fighting. Death.Reminiscence.A backstory never shared.A long wait for something that may never come.For what is faith, in the end, but suffering?*Disclaimer- not as pretentious as the summary makes it seem, the only things that are pretentious are the summaries and chapter titles. I was being a little shit at 4:30am when I wrote this and tried to make it all philosophical, but I don't want to delete all of the summaries and stuff now because some people liked the whole greater meaning that I tried to assign to it. You don't have to read this as anything more than some angst and some sad backstories if you don't want.*





	1. The Struggle of Good Against Evil is Obvious.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A depressive episode. An intruder. An attack. A murder. Do you have someone you’d kill for, or do you have someone you’d die for?

David was distracted when he came home from work. It had been a long morning, with three kids throwing tantrums in the space of an hour, two of his co-workers being out sick, leaving them very understaffed, and one angry parent who came to yell at anyone who was listening that her child had learned swear words from the daycare and demanded something be done about it. Plus, he could feel himself start to slip into a depressive episode and had forgotten to take his meds that morning. All he wanted to do was grab a slice of yesterday’s pizza out of the fridge and eat it cold on the couch while watching Animal Planet for the next few hours until he had to pick Max up from school. He was honestly considering texting the boy and asking him if he could ride the bus home because of how shitty he was feeling, but taking Max home was a routine that he knew the boy appreciated, and he didn’t want Max to feel like David was just giving up just because he wasn’t feeling great. He paused at the door to his apartment, grabbing his keys and noticing the stain on his t-shirt. Goddamn it, he thought he’d successfully gotten it out at work, but apparently, toddler vomit was impossible to remove. What kind of parent drops off their kid at daycare when they know he’s sick? A bad one, that’s for sure. He needed a shower, he felt disgusting. 

Okay, he needed to make a list of the afternoon’s activities if he was going to get anything done. First, food: get pizza from the fridge, eat pizza at the table and not the couch, maybe even heat it up if he had the effort. Second, take shower, get another t-shirt to wear. Third, look for change so he could put the shirt he was wearing in the laundry downstairs. He was already paying his landlord enough, she really needed to have a laundromat that cost money? Well, if he was going to wash his shirt, which he really needed to do if he was going to at least try to get the stain out, he may as well do all of his and Max’s laundry. Four, gather all of the laundry in the apartment, sort it, and bring it downstairs to wash. Five, pick Max up from school. He quickly pulled out his phone and set an alarm for 2:30 so he’d have enough time to drive over to the school. After that, he couldn’t really think of anything else that needed doing. They’d just had pizza last night, but David wasn’t even going to pretend he was going to cook tonight, so he’d have to see what takeout Max wanted for dinner, but that could be worried about later. Or maybe Gwen could cook once she got home from work, but he doubted that as Gwen really didn’t like cooking. Maybe if the boy didn’t have much homework, they’d all watch a movie together. That seemed like something that would be fun. 

Now that he’d organized his day as well as he could, he unlocked his door and shuffled into his apartment, heading straight for the fridge to grab the pizza, and mechanically walking over to the microwave to heat it up. He had absolutely no energy but had to force himself to at least try to be productive. Even if the only things he did off his list were eat and pick Max up, he’d still count it as a victory because he was getting worse by the minute. Once the pizza was done, he started walking towards the table, only to see a figure perched on his couch, watching him with a too-wide smile.

“Oh, hello David. Didn’t think you were going to notice me at all for a second.”

David dropped his plate of pizza on the floor, hearing the plate break but barely registering it. Daniel had broken into his apartment. How, he didn’t know, but there he was, completely nonchalant, like he was meant to be sitting on David’s couch. He backed up, fear in his eyes, as Daniel got up off the couch, and meandered over to him, the curved dagger he’d seen with the cultist when he was at camp in his hand. His back hit the cabinet, and he suddenly remembered that he was right next to the kitchen knives. He quickly pulled the largest one out of the block and held it, his hands trembling. It was a dull knife that had a hard time cutting through meat, so it was probably not the best weapon, but it was all David had. There was his survival knife, but it was with all of the rest of his camping gear in his bedroom, and there was no way David could get to his bedroom with Daniel advancing toward him like this.

“So, you decide to fight. Surprising, as I always pegged you for the pacifist type. I guess now that you have someone to protect, you see the advantages to violence. Every pacifist does eventually. Pacifism always seems like such a… noble concept, but it just doesn’t work. Everyone has someone they’d kill for. You’d fight for your little ‘family,’ and I’d fight for the hell of it. But I’m not just here for the hell of it. I’m here for revenge. You see, I don’t have very many regrets in my life, but one thing that sticks out like a sore thumb is what happened last summer. I was so close to helping all of those poor young souls reach ascension, and do you know who ruined that for me? You and your precious little Max. I’m surprised you managed to thwart me at all, with how oblivious you were to the whole thing. But that little rat played one on me, getting himself purified intentionally to show you what was going on. After that whole debacle, I was punished severely. But I received a new assignment, to take my revenge out on the two of you. But alas, Max slipped away from my grasp again the next time I tried to get him. I almost had him, he didn’t even recognize me until I let one too many details slip about just what I do. Fascinating, how the purification still had an effect on him after all that time. His mind was waging a war between his principles and the residual effects of the chemicals and messages I exposed him to. You should’ve seen him, you would’ve been so… concerned. All spacey and unable to see the truth for what it was. But the boy has a stronger mind than I’d accounted for, I’d need to do much more conditioning to get him under my control again. But don’t worry, David, I don’t intend to do that.”

“What are you planning to do?”

David didn’t really care what he was planning, but the longer he could keep Daniel monologuing and gesturing at him with his dagger, standing in front of him, the more time he had to figure out some kind of plan before the cultist tried to attack him.

“I’m glad you asked. I intend to tie you up, bind you to a chair in your bedroom and gag you. Maybe some light torture if I get bored. Wait for your Max to come home, and once he gets to your bedroom, wondering where you are, I’m going to slaughter you in front of him. Tie him up and make him watch you bleed out. Then, I’ll sacrifice him to our great god, Xemüg. Xemüg loves when I break his sacrifices’ spirits before I kill them. But you’re just trying to get me distracted, aren’t you? Oh, I could talk about the wondrous Xemüg all day, but I’ve talked for too long. Don’t want to be all talk and no action, do I now?”

And with that, Daniel strode toward the frightened David, his dagger in his hand and a malicious look in his eyes like he was enjoying this too much. David held the kitchen knife in front of him, the blade facing upwards, and both hands wrapped around the handle, shaking. Once Daniel had come close enough, David jabbed straight out in his direction, only to have Daniel block it effortlessly with his dagger.

“It’s… cute how you think you’re going to win this when I am obviously the superior fighter. You look like you’ve never tried to attack anything in your life, meanwhile this blade has slain many struggling sacrifices. Give it up, I don’t want to kill you just yet, because if I do, I’ll have to put much more effort into breaking Max, and you don’t want me to hurt him too much, do you?”

Daniel moved to place the blade at David’s throat, but surprisingly, he managed to parry the dagger away from him and tried again to stab at his stomach. Daniel easily dodged the attack, starting to get annoyed.

“Alright, you want to go down with a fight? I suppose I can grant you that.”

The two men started to spar, dodging and slashing at each other. Daniel was easily the better fighter, blocking nearly all of David’s blows and getting close enough to slice David’s shirt, breaking the skin and letting blood trickle down his chest. David was absolutely panicking, the only things keeping him alive were his own adrenaline and the thought that he had to stay alive for Max. If he died now, he could do nothing to protect Max from Daniel’s twisted intentions for him. He managed to dodge most of the crazed cultist’s attacks, getting a few minor slashes, the worst being on his chest. He did get a blow to Daniel’s wrist in while trying to disarm him. He’d started bleeding quite a bit, David must have hit a vein, but just laughed and switched arms. He was just as good with his left as with his right.

“You’ll have to try harder than that to take me down, David!”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed as he stepped up his game. He hadn’t been trying too hard, wanting to give David the illusion that he could possibly fight him off, but he wasn’t expecting the man to go for his wrist. Ever the pacifist, he just wanted to disarm him so he could call the cops, or something of that nature. Pathetic. Now he was going to go down. Daniel started striking quicker, in random locations, trying to scare David into surrendering, or killing him, whichever came first was fine with him. It was working, he noticed David’s eyes get wider and an expression of pure fear flashed on his face for a second, before it was replaced by a foolishly noble look of determination. David’s strikes got faster, trying to keep up with his attacker, but because of his inexperience, they were also messier and easier to deflect. Ribbons of blood flowed down David’s arms as they started to get sliced up, but he kept at it, taking riskier and riskier slashes and getting some hits on Daniel.

“Such poor form, you’re leaving yourself wide open. And you were doing so well, too. These risky strikes are just going to get you killed, I don’t know why you do it. Fed up of the slices in your arms? Ready to die, or better yet, surrender?”

David’s voice was low and had an unfamiliar tinge of anger to it.

“I’ll never surrender. That’s the difference between you and me. You have someone you’d kill for to serve, and I have someone I’d die for to protect. I’m not afraid of dying, if it takes you down with me.”

The anger in his voice caught Daniel off guard. It was almost touching how much he cared for others. But Daniel knew that only the weak and foolish cared. He was about to open his mouth to answer with a witty and condescending remark when suddenly, he felt pain bloom in his chest. He looked down and realized he’d been stabbed. David had stabbed him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. No, he was supposed to kill David. But the fool had surprised him and used the moment to strike. It was almost like something he’d do himself. He lunged at David with his dagger, knowing that if he was going down, he was taking the man down with him, and managed to get a decent slice to his throat, one that if he was lucky, might kill the man, before collapsing on the floor. He saw David, in slow motion, take his cell phone out of his pocket and start to dial 911 before everything went black.


	2. The Struggle of Good Against Evil is Subjective.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is always a winner and a loser in these things. A look back on a life cut short by one’s own deeds. Was it worth it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Chase Holfelder’s cover of My Way by Frank Sinatra. I highly recommend you listen to it while reading.

It’s funny how these things go. It’s all so cliche, so overused, but I found myself in a space where all I could see around me was grey. There didn’t appear to be a floor, or walls, or a ceiling, just grey. I looked down at myself to see what I was standing on and found my body to be translucent, like that of a ghost. And below me, just more grey. I wasn’t floating, but I wasn’t standing either. It’s indescribable. And then the memories started to play, and I found myself thrust into the situations, the decisions I made that brought me to this point. 

I am four years old. Father is on a business trip. Mother is out socializing. Nanny is down in the servants quarters. I am laying in bed. I am hungry. It is the middle of the night, pitch black in my bedroom. I am scared of the darkness, the largeness of this room. All of the things that could hide in it. I get out of bed. I make my way over to the door. Nanny usually keeps the door locked so I don’t go wandering in the night. I have told her I only do this when I need something. She doesn’t listen, or doesn’t care. She has left the door unlocked. I open the door and make my way down the dark hall. I am too small to reach a light switch. I reach the grandiose curved staircase leading down to the main floor. I grab onto the railing and start my way down. I slip, halfway down the stairs and tumble the rest of the way down. My head hits the hardwood. It hurts, more than any pain I have experienced, though I have not experienced much pain in life yet. I start to cry. I attempt to get to my feet. I am so dizzy. My head is spinning. I lay back down on the floor. I continue to cry. I start to yell. I just want someone to come fix me a snack, bring me back to bed, kiss me on the forehead goodnight. Mother does that occasionally, when she is home. She is not home very often. Father is never home. Nanny does not like me very much. She says I cause too much trouble. I cry until I have no more tears. I yell until my voice is hoarse. I fall back asleep on the hardwood, my head aching and hungrier than before. Nanny will find me there early in the morning. She will tell me I should not have gotten out of bed. She will say she should’ve kept my door locked. She will fix me breakfast. Mother will come home later in the morning. Nanny will tell her I hit my head playing outside. Mother will not say anything. She will be too hungover. Nanny will take me to the doctor. I will have a concussion. The doctor will say I was lucky, that it is mild. I will spend the next two weeks feeling nauseous, throwing up in the bathroom adjacent to my room. At least Nanny will keep that door unlocked at night. The ringing in my ears will continue for another month. I will not tell anyone. I do not want to cause more trouble for Nanny. Mother will not care. Father will not be there.

I am ten years old. Mother is always either hungover or not home. Father is distraught. Business is not going well for him. Nanny has been dismissed. They do not want to spend money on a private tutor for me anymore. They decide to put me in a private school. It is the first time I have been around more than a few other children for prolonged periods of time. They all know each other. I am too scared to talk to them. They do not like me. Except for one. His name is Theodore. He wants to be my friend. I become friends with him. I am in a few classes with him. They are the most enjoyable parts of the school day. He is the most enjoyable thing of the school day. I go to his house one day to do homework. I expect a too large, too empty house, that he knows like the back of his hand, to grab some food if there is any in the fridge. To play it off if there is not. To go up to his room to study in silence. To have his mother come out of her quarters in the evening, and leave without telling him. To order takeout because he has had a debit card since he was eight. To eat in his room, just the two of us. That is not what happens. We are greeted by his enthusiastic mother at the door. She ruffles his hair and says it has been too long since he’s had a friend over. We see his little sisters playing princesses on the couch. He greets them, and they greet us. We make our way up to his room, and start to hang out. We are not studying. We are talking. His mother brings us apple slices and peanut butter. She tells us not to eat too much, not to spoil our appetites for dinner. She means it in a lighthearted way. We get minimal amounts of homework done. I am happy, just as happy as when we talk in class instead of doing work. We are called down to dinner. His mother has made a full dinner. His father and his sisters join us at the dining room table. We all eat together and discuss our days, our plans for tomorrow. His father drives me back home after dinner. He talks to me on the ride back. He is joyful. None of the lights are on when I get home. It is only eight o’clock. Father’s car is gone. Mother’s car is gone. He asks if anyone is home for me. I feel the need to tell him yes, even though it is not true. He waves goodbye and leaves. I walk into the too large, too empty house. I sit on the couch and cry. Mother has never brought me snacks. Mother rarely tells me things in a lighthearted tone. Mother does not make dinner. I do not remember the last time I ate at the dining room table. The dining room table at Theodore’s home is just large enough for the family, plus two more seats for guests. The dining room table here sits twelve people. There have not been that many people here in a long time. I go to bed. My homework is not done. I always do my homework. I do not see the point anymore.

I am fourteen years old. I am at Theodore’s home. He says his parents are gone out on a date because it is their honeymoon. I do not understand why this is a big deal. There are eight other people there. They are his friends. They do not like me very much. It is because I am quiet. I am uncool in their eyes. Theodore has a mischievous look in his eyes. He leaves and comes back with a bottle of alcohol. He tells us he’s been storing it in his room for two weeks, hidden behind some books on a bookshelf to see if his parents would notice it was missing. They did not. His friends give loud cheers. I have never drunk alcohol. I do not see the point. I am afraid of becoming like Mother. I do not voice these thoughts. We sit in a circle and play truth or dare while passing the bottle around and taking sips out of it. I do it so that I seem cool to Theodore’s friends. It tastes terrible. One of Theodore’s friends picks me. His name, I think, is Brian. I pick truth. Brian asks me who in this room would I fuck. I do not know the answer. I do not think of these things very often. I have never even dated someone. I stutter. Brian says that he thinks Tiffany would be my type. A girl with long black hair and bright green eyes blushes. The rest of the group laughs. She is pretty, but pretty in the way that a piece of art is pretty. I tell the group I would fuck her. I am lying to make myself look good. She blushes even more. Once the alcohol has been drunk, we use the bottle to play the epitome of teenage games: spin the bottle. Another girl, Brittany, takes her turn. it lands on me. She and I kiss. When we pull back, she is blushing. I don’t understand it. It was just lips on lips. It was nice, I suppose, but did not feel any different than touching hands, or hugging. I watch the rest of the group take turns kissing. The alcohol starts to kick in. I feel floaty. I spin the bottle. It lands on Theodore. The rest of the room goes silent. It is the first time it has landed on two boys. It had landed on two girls earlier, Ashley and Tiffany. The boys all whooped and cheered as they kissed. I did not understand why. Selena, another girl I did not know before tonight, tells us to kiss. Theodore looks conflicted. I still do not understand why it is a big deal. We kiss. It is so different from kissing Brittany. The closeness, the warmth, I feel like I belong here, with my lips attached to Theodore’s. I understand why people enjoy this. Theodore pulls back. He gives a nervous laugh. My face is hot. He tells the group that it was dumb. The rest of the group laughs. I do not laugh. I feel a sadness deep inside of me. The floaty feeling is still there. It helps distract me. I start to disconnect from reality and focus on the floating feeling. At some point, we stop playing the game. I watch the group wander through the house, laughing and being loud. I also laugh and say things loudly. I do not feel like laughing and being loud. I watch myself over my shoulder get up and ask Tiffany if she wants to kiss. We kiss for a long time. Her tongue is inside my mouth. I try to like it. I do not like it. I try to feel something in the kiss. I do not. Tiffany tells me to touch her boobs. I do. She seems to get enjoyment out of it. We all sleep out in the living room. Tiffany sleeps curled around me. I have one last thought before I sleep. I wonder if it would feel any different to have Theodore sleeping curled around me. I decide not to think about these thoughts. They seem wrong.

I am sixteen years old. I call myself gay. The term doesn’t fit exactly, but it is an approximation. I kiss boys behind the bleachers. I do not feel anything. I bring boys home with me, where there is usually no one in the too-large house and do unspeakable things with them. I do not feel anything. Incorrect, I feel small amounts of pleasure in the moment, but nothing compared to what they feel. My mother left the too-large house a year ago. She said it was killing her. It is killing me. Father is never home. I haven’t seen him in months. He is always working. He is always trying to forget about her absence. He is always trying to forget about my presence. I do not call myself gay around him. I feel as if he wouldn’t like it. Theodore does not like me anymore. I try not to care. He distanced himself from me when I stopped being quiet. When I started calling myself gay. His friends do not like me. They never did. Sometimes I do not want to do anything. Sometimes I want to stay in bed all day. I let myself do these things. A boy I would sometimes kiss gives me a pill one day. He tells me it helps him feel better. I take it. I have nothing to lose. I feel amazing. I feel better than I have in a very long time. I need him to touch me. We do unspeakable things. I enjoy them. The effects wear off. I feel worse than I did before I took them. I give him fifty dollars and he gives me a pill bottle full of them. I take them in the morning when I do not want to do anything. I crash in the middle of the school day unless I take another. I take one after school when I bring boys home to do unspeakable things. The more I take them, the more I do not want to do anything when they wear off. The more days I take them, the more money I give to this boy. He gives me more pills. A semester goes by in an instant. I barely pass. Father does not comment on my grades. Father does not comment on my behavior. I almost never see Father. Over the summer, I have nowhere to meet up with the boy who gives me pills. I fall off the edge. I stop being productive. I stop showering. I stop eating. I stop getting out of bed. I move only when it feels like I will die if I do not eat. I order pizzas so often, the delivery people start to grow concerned about my well being. Sometimes, I contemplate death. I feel like nothing because I do not have pills. I feel dirty because my whole life revolved around pills. I decide I do not deserve pills. The school year starts again. I attend class sometimes but make no effort to pass. I do not do my homework. I sleep. Sleep is like death, but less permanent. I almost fail this semester. I do not understand why I passed. I supposed it was out of pity. Slowly, I return to the state I was in before I started taking pills. I make more of an effort in my classes. I still have many days where I do not want to do anything. I still have many days where I contemplate death. I do not think I could fully go back to being the person I was before I took pills. I accept this.

I am eighteen years old. I graduate high school in two weeks. I have no idea what I want to do with my life after high school. Father is home more often, but neither of us makes an effort to reach out to the other. Father throws a graduation party for me. He invites all of his business associates. The house is full of people. I do not know any of them. I do not want to be at this party. I am having a day where I do not want to do anything. I force myself to socialize with Father’s business associates. Many of them offer me a job in their company. I get many business cards that night. I am sitting outside, while the party goes on inside. I do not want to socialize any longer. I have been being polite to businessmen who do not care about me, just about my father and about looking good, for hours. I have a glass of red wine in my hand. I do not drink it. I do not like the taste. I do not like anything that has mind-altering effects. I stare out into the garden. I contemplate my life. I will get a job like Father’s. I will work my entire life, like Father. I will find a wife, like Father. I will not care about her enough, like Father. She will leave me, like Father. I will die alone if I do not have children, like Father would. I contemplate death. Life does not seem worth it. A man with bleached white hair, dressed in all white, approaches me. I brace myself for business talk. He asks me if I think I have a purpose in life. I am taken aback. I tell him the truth. I know I do not. He asks me if I am filled with negative emotions at all hours. I tell him the truth. I am if I am awake, and I do not like being awake. He asks me if I have tried to correct these emotions. I tell him the truth. I have dirtied myself with pills, exchanging my well-being for false happiness. He tells me he can help me. He tells me he can give me a purpose. He tells me he can rid me of negative emotions. He tells me he can rid me of the effects of my attempts to correct myself. I tell him I am interested in what he is saying. He tells me that he used to be just like me. He gives me a business card. It is white with gold print. He vanishes back into the party, telling me to think about the things he’s told me. His is the only business card I keep. I throw the rest away. I call the number the next day. I am invited to a meeting. I watch it take place. I believe none of what is being said. I do not care for the religious part of this. But for the first time in my life, I am made to feel as if I matter. I quite enjoy it.

I am eighteen and a half years old. It is the night of my initiation ceremony. At last, I am part of something larger than myself. I am part of something that matters. I am given an outfit of all white clothing. My hair is bleached blond. My death is faked. James Ashton Jonson has died in a car crash. Legally, I do not exist anymore. The high prophet Herodion chooses my new name. I become Daniel. I am given a curved dagger. A struggling boy, tied and bound in a chair, is carried out on the shoulders of four members and placed in front of me. I know what to do. I stare deeply at the boy. I recognize those warm brown eyes. It is Theodore. I should feel horrified. I do not feel anything. I slash his throat open with the dagger. I declare that the purpose of his now-liberated soul is to be devoured by Xemüg, even though I do not believe in him. I have completed my first sacrifice. I have made my first kill. I do not care that this is all fake. These people accept me. These people praise me. I am one of them. I belong here.

I am twenty-two years old. I believe in Xemüg. I believe that negative emotions come from space. I believe that adults must either join us or have their souls sacrificed to Xemüg. I believe children must be purified and then have their earthly bodies destroyed to ascend to the next realm, where everything is better than it is here. I am sent on a large-scale mission for only the fifth time in three and a half years. I must prove myself. I am sent to a low budget summer camp and told to pose as a counselor. I succeed in getting every child purified except for one. He sees things in the wrong way, believes I have come to hurt instead of help. Only a child, yet his soul is less pure than many of the worst adults I have seen and sacrificed. He tries to convince the other counselors, one idiotic and one uncaring, of my motives. They do not listen. They call him a troublemaker. I feel victory in my hands as I see him enter the purification chamber on his own. I make sure the already-purified children are readying the elixir of ascension. It is ready. The child comes out of the purification chamber, seemingly pure and ready to ascend. But his change in behavior alerts the idiotic counselor. He went into the purification chamber to prove to them of his take on my motives. I have never seen a child with a soul so impure that he makes it through the chamber without being fully purified. The idiotic counselor believes him that my motives are bad. I must not get caught. I drink the elixir of ascension. It is not strong enough. I live, and my failures earn me harsh punishment. I must also track down the boy and the idiotic counselor and sacrifice them to Xemüg. I accept my new assignment readily. One night, Xemüg speaks to me in a dream and tells me to go to the bus station in the morning. I obey, and Xemüg has granted me the boy. His mind is fuzzy around me, a lasting effect of his failed purification. This time, he will not be purified. He will be slashed open and his soul offered to Xemüg. He is the only child I will sacrifice, as Xemüg knows that children are still pure enough to ascend. Xemüg understands that this one is too impure to ascend, and desires his soul. The boy, though his mind is unfocused, slips away once again. Xemüg is angry. I am punished again. Another night, Xemüg tells me about how the boy and the idiotic counselor now live together. He tells me I have one more chance to prove myself. If I fail this, there will be no chance for me to ascend, and when I die, he will devour my soul like he does of the impure. I tell him I will not let him down. I fail. 

Now, all I must do is await Xemüg. I wonder briefly if it has already happened, if this greyness is where I must spend eternity now that I have died. But no, I think I will know when it happens. So I wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to explain the significance of the chapter names and summaries in a really big thread on my twitter so if you'd like to give that a read here's the link. 
> 
> https://twitter.com/spellboundnora/status/1035439620161515522
> 
> I think I did an okay job of getting the true meaning of this fic out in this thread, but it's also 4:30AM when I'm posting this, so if you want to just take things at face value and not delve too deep into the whole stance of good vs evil and what exactly that means when everyone is the protagonist of their own story, I understand. It's a weird amount of philosophy for a fanfiction, and it's probably not very good philosophy, because I am a teenager who watches too much exurb1a writing this while kinda sleep deprived.


End file.
